


Sleepless

by tasteofink



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Brief mention of Past Abuse, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Self indulgent softness, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, not calling this ooc bc it's GROWTH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 19:12:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18430331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasteofink/pseuds/tasteofink
Summary: Domestic Andreil. This is self indulgent and self edited which means it's probably poorly written and full of mistakes. Do with this what you will and thank you for reading❤️





	Sleepless

**Author's Note:**

> Domestic Andreil. This is self indulgent and self edited which means it's probably poorly written and full of mistakes. Do with this what you will and thank you for reading❤️

Sleepless nights have never been uncommon. Andrew’s restlessness is as much a part of him as bones and blood and tissue. 

When he does sleep, it doesn’t last as long as it should. The nightmares don’t help much either. The clock on the bedside table reading 3:37 isn’t surprising, but Andrew still groans when he sees it. He’d woken up in a cold sweat, heart beating too quickly, hands twisted into the sheets and his pillow case. He can already tell there will be no falling asleep for at least another couple of hours so he sits up and reaches for his pack of cigarettes. He tries to avoid smoking in bed, but there’s a slight chill in the room from the ceiling fan and the open window, and Andrew can’t be bothered to get up just yet.

He shifts carefully, keeps his eyes on Neil to make sure he stays asleep. Andrew takes a drag and lets his head fall back against the headboard, shuts his eyes and dreams awake about the person taking up the other half (and some of Andrew’s) of the bed. 

Andrew remembers a method Bee worked with him on, a way of bringing himself back to Earth when nightmares and memories dragged him down.

Recite your good things.

Andrew does and can’t believe his reality. He can’t believe he found his peace and home in a boy as broken as he was. He can’t believe they grew into the young men they are now. He can’t believe the fucking cat is on the bed after he swatted her off a couple of hours ago- though he doesn’t deny that Sir and King are two of the good things. 

“Go,” Andrew whispers harshly, unsuccessfully shooing King off the blanket. “Fuck off, fleabag.”

King meows and Andrew rolls his eyes. She’s as annoying as she is cute so Andrew lets her stay, but not without a dirty look. Andrew combs his fingers through messy hair and looks back to Neil. He lifts Neil’s arm off of himself as gently as he can and rolls out of bed, takes another drag off his cigarette on his way to the kitchen. He whips up a quick cup of hot chocolate and stalks back to bed, unsurprised to see a very tired Neil leaning in the doorway. His shirt is all rumpled and his hand is splayed against his stomach, further lifting his baggy t-shirt. His boxers are all crooked and loose and his hair- Andrew’s been telling him for weeks that he should get it cut. 

“I felt you leave,” Neil says through a yawn.

“I’m back now so go to bed.”

Neil nods with his eyes half closed. Andrew sits down on the edge of the bed and puts out his cigarette, rubs it into the ashtray next to the clock. He feels the bed shift behind him and then Neil’s arms are around his shoulders and Neil’s cheek is warm and a little rough where scars mark him.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Never can.”

“Nightmare?”

“Yes.”

Neil props himself up on his knees and rubs over Andrew’s chest.

“Ok?”

Andrew falls slightly against Neil and nods. “Yes.”

Andrew tilts his head back and Neil kisses him. Andrew reaches up to wrap a hand around Neil’s wrist, lets his fingers slide into place between Neil’s.

“Do you think you can sleep again?”

“Not right now.”

Behind his eyelids, Andrew sees a glimpse of the nightmare. He sees Easthaven, he sees himself shackled to a bed. He sees perfectly white sheets, a perfectly white lab coat, perfectly white walls.

He shakes the image from his head and brings himself back- to the apartment, to the smell of hot chocolate, to Neil. Andrew shifts away to settle with his back to the headboard, gestures for Neil to lie down. When Neil refuses, Andrew sighs, gives him an even, bored stare.

“You don’t have to stay up with me,” Andrew says, but he knows Neil will anyway.

“I know.”

“So don’t.”

“I want to.”

King hops onto the bed with a hoarse meow as Neil shifts to get comfortable. The cat kneads the blankets where they sit piled in Andrew’s lap and Neil watches, clearly offended, as the cat makes himself at home in Neil’s territory. Andrew watches with quiet amusement as Neil picks King up and places him at the end of the bed with Sir. Neil reclaims his spot, leans so that his back is to Andrew’s chest.

Andrew slides his hand under Neil’s shirt and he feels Neil relax further. It used to be different, Andrew remembers. It used to be fearful and nervous and disgusted. It still is sometimes, but more often than not it’s welcome. Andrew traces scars he’s memorized, dips and peaks and puckered skin he knows better than his own.

“I was in Easthaven,” Andrew says quietly. “I couldn’t move. I couldn’t fight him,” Andrew adds, refusing to say the name. “It’s hardly a nightmare.” He doesn’t need to say it’s a memory, as real as anything.

Neil catches Andrew’s hand to bring him to a stop. Andrew watches as Neil plays with his fingers for a moment before intertwining them, his palm against the back of Andrew’s hand. Andrew lets Neil lead their hands first to his own chest, then to Neil’s. Two heartbeats, slow and even, tick away under their joined hands. _You made it. You are alive. You are ok._

Andrew fixes himself behind Neil with his arm over Neil’s chest, taps a slow rhythm over Neil’s heart. He rests his chin on Neil’s head and blows out a breath to get that stupid auburn hair away from his mouth.

“I think it’s time for a haircut.”

“I think you say that once a week,” Neil replies, scratching gently over the buzzed hair of his undercut that hardly looks buzzed anymore.

Andrew plays with Neil’s hair, twirls one extra wavy lock around his finger. Neil’s slow blinks and gentle calls to keep going whenever Andrew moves to stop urge Andrew to grant Neil’s wish. When Neil tilts his head back, Andrew slides his gaze to meet blue eyes, though his expression remains flat.

“I’ll move if you’re tired.”

Andrew just shakes his head and shifts to recline further back.

“You sleep. I’m alright.”

Neil gets comfortable against Andrew’s side and Andrew can tell he’ll be out soon. Andrew cards through Neil’s hair, messes it up to fix it and repeats the cycle till Neil’s breath evens out. His head rises and falls with every breath Andrew takes and Andrew doesn’t stop playing with his hair, lets the softness of it and the ongoing pattern soothe him. By the time Andrew feels well enough to sleep, the sky is a couple of shades brighter and King is pattering around in search of food. Andrew takes another look at his good things, tells King the food is in the kitchen, and lets himself fall asleep.


End file.
